


Everything's confusing (I see the future in mysterious ways)

by huckleberriess



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huckleberriess/pseuds/huckleberriess
Summary: they're gay and transgender and in love and that's that on thatyuki watches kyo play a video game. yuki thinks a little too hard.(some implied nsfw but nothing explicit- rating is accurate)
Relationships: Sohma Kyou & Sohma Yuki, Sohma Kyou/Sohma Yuki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	Everything's confusing (I see the future in mysterious ways)

There are these rare moments where Kyo and Yuki live like normal teenage boys who cohabitate a space. These rare, _weirdly_ casual moments. Usually, they coincide with Kyo feeling abnormally well, mentally—like he doesn’t have to pop a blood vessel to be seen, to be heard, to be loved, like he doesn’t have to necessarily _hate_ Yuki with every ounce of his energy in order to live. Like he’s forgotten that he does.

Kyo sits on the floor of the living area, cross-legged and furiously thumbing an old Nintendo controller. Shigure is gone, but who cares where. Tohru is at work, probably driving herself to the bone as usual, and she’ll probably come home and slave over dinner for the rest of them as usual, and she’ll get up and do it all again tomorrow without a single word of complaint or exhaustion, as usual. But until then, until their shared favorite person walks through the open doors, and they can try (and fail) to make her rest, they’re passing the time playing some Mario Brothers game Yuki doesn’t know the name of. It’s older by the looks of the graphics, though still in 3D. It’s hard for him to follow what exactly is happening with his eyes, mostly because he, of course, never played any video games growing up, not that Kyo would bother to ask, and not that Yuki would bother to tell. But Kyo seems to be having a good enough time. The way his brow furrows in concentration is cute. Or how his muscles will jerk when his character falls off an edge.

He’s in his boxers and a loose T-shirt. No binder. No bra, either, to _Yuki’s_ embarrassment. An immature part of Yuki wonders at his confidence; Yuki feels uncomfortable even lounging in his own room without some kind of compression on his chest. If Yuki stares, which he won’t admit that he is, he can sometimes see the warm glow of Kyo’s skin through the thin, white material if the sun hits it just right. Each time, he blushes.

Yuki’s feet are propped up on Kyo’s tan legs, and again, he wonders how Kyo is just fine with showing so much of his skin. “Which one is this again?” he asks, trying to act like he’s busying himself with his phone and nudging Kyo with a heel when he doesn’t answer.

“’64.” Kyo says, curtly. “Don’t talk to me, dickhead, I’m trying to speed-run.” Yuki gives him a look and gives up trying to assign any of those words meaning.

He watches Kyo’s hair practically glisten in the afternoon light and ignores the turning in his stomach. Pretty. So pretty. Kyo’s always been pretty. Yuki’s always thought Kyo was pretty.

He wants to kiss him. He can’t. They’d bypassed their bedrooms. Bedrooms, when they’re alone together, are for sulking, or fighting, or fooling around. The living room, when they’re alone together, is for this strange, in-between intimacy, this uncomfortable comfort where their walls are sort of half-way down. All these unspoken rules. It’s dangerous. Their relationship, whatever it is, is dangerous. They walk some kind of line neither of them can name, neither of them can see. He wants to kiss him, and he can’t. He wants to look at him, unapologetically _look_ at him, and he can’t. He wants to love him, and he can’t.

He stares at Kyo’s fingers mashing the buttons on the controller, his white knuckles and pink fingertips. He thinks of those fingers pressed against his own skin, bruising, degrading, intense (disgusted). He thinks of those fingers pressed against his own skin, caressing and tender (or, at least, tolerant).

(He’s had both, and he can’t ever decide which is more painful. He’s quite greedy, isn’t he? He’s quite ungrateful, isn’t he.)

“Hey,” Kyo barks. Yuki startles.

Kyo is looking at him with unfamiliar eyes. Cautious. Gentle, maybe.

“Get out of your head, dumb rat.”

Yuki feels his eyes squint in confusion. Kyo says, “You wigged out on me. Your breath got all shaky all of a sudden. You’re not gonna make me talk you through something, are you?”

Yuki blinks. This is… Kyo is extending a hand. Kyo noticed something, and he cared.

“As if.” Yuki answers, breezily, “Talk me through what—how to beat off to old martial arts tapes?”

Kyo makes an annoyed sound at the back of his throat, “I don’t—Whatever.” He rolls his eyes and turns back to his game.

Yuki allows himself a small smile. How strange. For a moment, it had seemed like they were friends.

“I know all those sweaty men must really do it for you, Kyo,” Yuki pushes. “You’re so vulgar.”

Kyo grits his teeth and kicks a leg out from under himself to jab at Yuki’s side. Yuki leans perfectly out of its way and gives Kyo a smug grin. A safe grin. If he’d laughed, or if Kyo had seen Yuki’s small, surprised smile just seconds before, he might have never stopped bleeding from the wound it would open. A scab exposed and picked away. A wet band-aid sloughed off in the stream. Disgusting. But smugness is safe, and amusing, and, if he’s lucky, might make Kyo want to dig those pretty fingers into him again. Might make him want to kiss the smugness out of him.

But that would break the magic, wouldn’t it? The preternatural effect of them simply existing in one another’s presence. The quiet intimacy of this moment, this brief, uncommon moment where they can just have some semblance of closeness, of normalcy, familiarity, safety—things neither of them have ever honestly understood. Yuki wants Kyo to kiss him, to press him to the floor, wants to feel his chest through that stupid T-shirt and tangle himself in Kyo’s hair and limbs and fingers. But, yuki thinks, he might actually want this more.

“Sorry for checking on you,” Kyo quips. “Won’t happen again.”

Yuki huffs an almost-laugh through his nose. “Good. Don’t let it.” He replies and tries to rub the smile away from his face.

He notices Kyo blink a few times, lids fluttering, lashes kissing his cheekbones. And Kyo scoots a little—really, a little, indistinguishable, ever-so-slightly—closer to him. Yuki’s body moves a little closer, too. It must want the closeness. It must want the companionship even more than he does. No matter how much he rubs against his mouth, he can’t quite scrub away his own softness. He can’t quite hide.

Maybe their rules are bending a little. Maybe just for today. That might be alright.


End file.
